Yang Yankang watched as the car drove away from the villa, and with a vicious punch, he hammered the wall, creating a hole. He was furious that Feng Jiayin dared to speak to him like that.
In what way was he, Yang Yankang, inferior to Duan Pengcheng? Dead and still loved, was he really worthless in her eyes?
Could it be that he wasn't even worth a single hair on Duan Pengcheng's head?
Yang Yankang was so angry that his face turned a shade of iron blue. The audacity to warn him—just wait and see. He wasn't someone to be trifled with. If she could speak to him in such a manner, he couldn't swallow his pride.
"Feng Jiayin, we'll see about that. I'd like to see how you plan to bring ruin and death upon my Yang Family." Yang Yankang didn't take Feng Jiayin's warning seriously at all; he couldn't believe she had the power.
His Yang Family was a well-known entity with extensive connections. It would be impossible to bring them to ruin and death.